


Thoroughly undone

by Anonymous



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Azula Wins AU, Bathing/Washing, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prison Sex, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 20:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19070398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Zuko craves love. Azula had considered it pathetic once, and she still does, but at least now she has found a use for it.post-series AU where Azula has her brother where he should always have been.





	Thoroughly undone

**Author's Note:**

> Nasty, self-indulgent pwp. Please mind the tags!
> 
> 04/08 - Edited some typos out and rephrased some parts, but now I'm officially orphaning it. Have fun ;)

Succeeding against her brother doesn’t surprised her.

Her brother had always been soft. There was a hunger in him, oh yes, that fire that burned and consumed and filled them with _want_. The descendents of Agni, the children of fire made flesh -  they might not have anything in common with one another in personality, but they all _craved_ . Her grandfather had craved and her uncle had craved, even if he pretended he hadn’t, and even Lu Tien, that idiot who got himself killed, had craved either the glory of battle or the release of death. Her father craved so much he would consume the whole world. And Azula… Her craving _aches_ , her guts boiling with anticipation for something always so close but just out of her reach. She must have a black hole where his heart ought to be, all-consuming and never quenched. At least until now.

Succeeding against Zuko doesn’t surprised her, but the satisfaction she takes from it does.

It has been a long time since her last visit. She opens the door calmly, despite her eagerness, effortlessly lighting up the unused lamps on the walls with her firebending. She knows the click-clack of her and her entourage’s heels against the metal floor could be heard by the prisoner, and sure enough, there he is: standing up just beyond the door, one hand against the wall to steady him as if he were dizzy.

The most impressive thing about Zuko’s current state is the unnatural paleness of his skin. To a firebender, being deprived of the sunlight for such a long period of time was torture. Besides that, he is much thinner, all skin and bones and stubborn sinewy muscles. He looks like a ghost. And he smells. The whole room does, and her eyes spot the overflowing chamberpot in the corner. It offends her nose, but she endures it gracefully. The only part of Zuko that looks alive are his eyes. Ah, his eyes, at first wet and unfocused, then conflicted and pained. Then it is all brushed aside as they reflect only a primal feeling: hunger.

That had been his undoing, hadn’t it? Ursa’s undignified blood must have dulled some of the fire of Agni in him. Zuko craves, and how! But he craves  _love_. She considered it pathetic once, and she still does, but at least now she has found a use for it.

He seems to vibrate, almost, on the edge of despair. She is _smiling_ , she realizes, and has a hard time turning it into a sneer.

 “Brother,” she says, extending a hand, palm down, “Good morning.”

He all but throws himself at her feet, touching her booted legs. She would never had allowed something so filthy to touch her, but this is different. It's exhilarating. She combs his hair with her fingers, her nails scratching gently at his scalp.

 “Oh, Zuzu, I see you missed me.”

He rasps a reply that might be a yes - it doesn’t matter. With a snap of her fingers the servants come into the cell: two carrying a basin of water, a third carrying a large wooden chair and a rug, a fourth a change of clothes, a towel and a basket with some liquid soap and bath salts. They enter and leave without raising their eyes to the strange scene, in a flutter of veils and robes that makes them look more like ghosts than humans. Once they have arranged the bath and left, Azula closes the door, and pushes Zuko back with her foot. He’s distressed and displeased, but he stays back on his haunches. His eyes never leave hers.

Deliberately, she undresses, placing piece by piece of clothing on the wooden chair, admiring the warm light of the fire on her skin and knowing Zuko is doing the same. She keeps her back turned to him as she gets into the basin, and makes a show of using her firebending to warm up the water. The suggestion is there. He can use his own powers to try and boil her alive, if he wants, or roast her like a meal. Before, he _would_ have tried.  

“I know it is terrible for you here, with no news from the outside world, so let me fill you in.” she says while she soaks in the warmth, the fragrant steam rising from the water and clashing with the pungent smell of the cell. “We have executed the Avatar. I’m sure this news will bring you some pain...  from regret that you didn’t do the job yourself, and not from any petty sentimentality you might still have for him, I'm sure.”

No sound from Zuko but his labored breathing. She can feel his eyes on her back, like a hot brand, as hot as his firebending once was. _Good_. Azula starts rubbing her skin, broadly and suggestive.

 “We've also set a date for Iroh’s execution.”

His breath seems to catch. Azula rubs her breasts, her stomach. She hooks her legs on the edge of the basin, to better wash them. She hasn’t stopped smiling since she came in.

“He is family, but he cannot live. He lost. Like you did, but unlike you, he did not have a sweet sister to spare his worthless life. He had Azulon instead.”

Finished, she stands up, looking straight at him. On her (brutally scarce) previous visits, she had not mentioned anything of anyone, in hopes to isolate Zuko emotionally as well as physically, and to bait him. Now, it is time to switch, and she waits for him to squirm. But for once her brother surprises her: he stays down, the same intense look in his eyes as before she started bathing. There is confusion and resentment, she can see, and anger too, but no mourning. His stare is smoldering.

She feels warm between her legs and it makes her squirm, and she disguises the involuntary movement by reaching for the towel.

“I'm pleased, Zuzu. I had my back to you, but you didn’t attack. _Good boy_.”

He averts his eyes as blood rises to color his cheeks. Is it pride or shame? _Both_ , she knows, biting her lower lip. She steps out of the water and into the rug next to the chair, drying herself off with deliberate movements.

“It was clever of you for once, and I’m proud. I think you deserve a reward. Would you like to bathe as well?”

“Yes,” he rasps with his unused voice, barely audible, but sure as a knife. His eyes trail back up. He has learned, over time, not to deny her generosity. He knows how long it must be till she offers it again.

“There is no clean water, I’m afraid. But I’m sure my dirty water is good enough for you, Zuzu.”

“Yes,” he says again, the smallest tremble of lips before he adds, “sister.”

She feels that word between her legs, aroused like nothing else can make her. _This_ is true victory. Outside, she is a queen, but inside these four walls she is a god.

“Get undressed and into the water, Zuzu. I will help you, because I’m a very good sister.”

Jumping to his feet he undresses desperately, as if his life depends on it, and sinks into the water until only his nose and the face around it are out. An appreciative moan bursts out of his lips as he takes a deep breath, body coming back up timidly to rest his head against the edge of the basin. It’s a big enough basin, but he struggles to keep all his limbs completely under the water. It’s downright pathetic. A wave of affection comes over Azula, as well as an urgent need to make him cry.

Azula drapes her towel over the headrest of the chair and sits on its edge, naked, letting her nails gently scratch against Zuko’s skull once more. He seems to melt into the touch, and makes another obscenely appreciative sound. Completely vulnerable, like she hasn’t seen him since childhood. A mistake, to be sure, but also really not: he has learned that there is no defense against Azula. A good lesson that she took pains to teach him. She had liked it when he seriously thought he could beat her, but this is much better. Getting some soap from the basket she massages his hair, and sees his expression scrunching a little. For a brief moment she thinks she might have gotten soap in his eyes, until she realizes he is _crying_.

How long had it been since Zuko had felt another’s touch, besides the proofs of submission she would allow him to offer her on occasion? How many _years_?

Spurred on, she leans in.

“Now that the avatar is dead, we expect the next one to come from the water tribe,” she whispers, letting her lips brush his ear, and feels him shiver. Her hands go to his neck, massaging the tight muscles where it meets his shoulders and back, and he moans again. “Good thing we have whatever remains of them under control. We can just kill all the babies.” She uses some of her firebending to warm up the water again, her hands rubbing his muscles. Is Zuko truly listening? He seems to be getting worked up, and she can’t blame him, really. He is slowly sitting up straighter and bending back to meet her touch. Azula complies, rubbing his arms, leaning forward until her nipples are brushing his back and he is groaning again. How he squirms! He seems to know there is a limit, and to be anguished over not knowing where exactly that is, how much more he can push until the whip finally comes down full force, no warning. Or maybe his distress is from the news pouring out of her mouth, and the conflict between being disgusted by her, and by himself for not being able to fight back. Or both. Her thighs snap tight together, once, with the wave of arousal that comes over her.

 "Or, if the child is male, I can capture him. Raise him until he's old enough for me to make a child with him."

Azula earns a full-body shiver from Zuko now. Sitting on the very edge of the chair, breasts pressed against him as she rubs his abdomen, feeling the bones of his ribs and whatever wiry muscle was left there, leaving with her nails what she knows to be red lines against the sickly paleness of his skin. His breath is labored and so is hers when she breathes against his ear, unable and unwilling to stop.

 "After all, the kingdom needs a heir. Ursa was of the avatar lineage and she and father produced me, so if I had a child with the avatar, it could be as strong as Roku himself reborn…don't you think, Zuzu?"

She's draped over his shoulders now, her hands trailing lower and lower, the suggestion of a touch wrenching pitiful sounds and full-body shudders from him. His hands are tight fists holding onto the basin's edges, like he will drown if he doesn't. 

"But what if the avatar has already been killed, or what if the avatar is a woman?” Her lips brush his cheek now, so close to his, “Zuko, what will I do then?"

 "A-Azula…"

She closes her hand, and he does buck up this time, impossibly hard as she strokes, up and down, up and down, gentle and unforgiving, languid and tenacious. His hand flies to her wrist and instantly draws back like the touch burns him, like he's afraid. She laughs, low, and he thrusts helplessly into her hand when she does, a string of pathetic pained sounds coming from his mouth, and Azula _wants_.

"Look at you, Zuzu.” She licks his face, tasting soap and tears. “Even in this sorry state you're still more worthy of me than anyone else in the empire. Isn't that sad? No one could dare hope to match me, but you, at very least, have the fire of Agni and Roku in your veins as well. And you love me, don't you, Zuzu?"

Moans escape his lips though he’s biting down hard on it, and she can tell he is close, so close... so she slows down. He whines in sudden confusion, his knuckles white where they are grabbing at the edges of the basin, and his dejected face is so pathetic and perfect, like he’s going to cry again. She wants him to...

 “Don’t you, Zuzu?”

 “I- I-”

She loosens her hold on him and drags the nail of her pinky over his testicles, her tone growing threatening.

“Do you love me, Zuko?”

"Yes!” He cries, voice cracking, hand once again flying to her wrist only to draw back violently a second later, his lips brushing hers as he turns his head back in desperation “Azula- yes, please, Azula, I, I…"

She pumps him again, drinking in his pleading words straight from his mouth, so  _close,_  "You have never been better than you are now, brother. Loyal to me. This is the best you could ever be."

Then she squeezes with force and stills her hand. He whines high and long, bucking his hips uselessly, as painfully hard as she is painfully wet, but she is unmoving, her hand strangling his erection until he's gulping his sobs down and laying back in frustration. She just removes her hand altogether and moves, certain of what she wants.

It happens so fast - the next moment she is lying down on the rug, he is staring, eyes hazy with so much want and fear she can smell it in the air, and once again she _feels_ it like a pulse between her legs, impatient, and she _must_ have it, she must have it _now_.

“Come here”, Azula commands. And then a second time, the steel in her voice melted to a half moan that escapes her when she spreads her legs and touches herself, but all the more commanding because of it. “ _Come, Zuko_.”

And he does, all but throwing himself at her, and in a splash of water and wet hair he covers her body with his with a desperation she has only seen in the men she is about to kill. He thrusts fruitlessly, too agitated and clumsy to properly penetrate her, and all the more frustrated because of it. It reminds Azula of animals, of watching dogs fuck in the Ba Sing Se zoo, and the sheer depravity of the memory fills her with pleasure. She laughs as her hand sneaks between them to guide Zuko in, and laughs once more even as she gasps when he’s finally inside, thrusting deep and vicious, with the abandon of a drowning man. Of a _burning_ man. She’s out of breath and she drives her nails across his back, spreading her legs wider and trapping him, gasping in pleasure when he hurts her with the violence of his thrusts, and then - something happens when he angles just _so_ and then Azula is the one moaning, biting down on his neck hard and seeing stars with the pleasure that takes her there and then. He will be bleeding and she will be purple and she has never fucked anyone with as much delight as she does here, and she feels it when it comes - and she isn't even touching herself - but she comes and it is so absurdly overwheming and with so much force that she is light-headed as the wave of pleasure makes he shudder with her whole body. She rides it, muscles tensing deliciously as her mind goes blank for a heavenly moment, and then going slack. Her head lolls back as she comes down, and her hands roam lazily as it looking for purchase while he keeps thrusting into her with abandon. 

Then Zuko makes a curious strangled sound of his own and his rhythm goes too uneven, too suddenly, his thrusts becoming erratic and uncoordinated. Just as quickly his pace picks up again, with the same urgency and grunts of before. For a moment she is confused, but then pleasure overtakes her once more, as Azula understands that he came inside her once already - but that it wasn't enough. Her arms go around him, a hand on his hair, her lips on his ear after she licks his neck up, tasting the sweat and blood she drew out with her teeth. She is laughing, laughing as his thrusts have her feeling it again, laughing louder and louder as she imagines the sloppy mess they have made.

With a skilled move, she overtakes him and changes their position so he’s lying on his back; she sits back on top of his cock, rubbing herself on him but not letting him penetrate her again, and he whines her name in frustration and it’s so, _so good_. She points two fingers at the ceiling and blasts then, a blue beam that makes a hole in the ceiling. Zuko gasps in terror, the violent whipslash of emotions freezing him in the split seconds before the sun touches his eyes. He immediately shields his face from the light with his arms, and Azula wonders if he forgot to speak and can only whine and moan in this new state he's been reduced to. She grabs his wrists and moves them back, ever so slowly, ever so gentle, ever so irrestible. Her breath catches as she admires her handiwork under the light of the sun. He’s flustered, lips swollen and eyes sunken, some blood smeared next to his ears and his eyes wet with fat tears as he cries, and cries, and cries, his whole body convulsing with sobs now. His white skin almost seems to reflect the sun. Even through the scrunched up eyelids and the tears, his yellow eyes seem to come alive for her under the burning light. Thoroughly undone. Thoroughly vulnerable. Thoroughly hers.

“Ah, Zuko,” Azula coos, rocking her hips once more. She briefly worries he'd go soft, but he responds to her once more, like he always did and always would. It did not matter what he thought he wanted. He could never help but to submit, like she could not help but to master. “You never wanted a crown, do you see? You have always wanted a mother and you have always wanted a father.” Letting one of his wrists lie limply on the floor, she reaches back to find him slick with their come, hard and ready again, and her smile broadens. “Because they left you, but I won’t. I’ll be father and mother to you, Zuzu.” She pushes down slowly, savoring the stretching again. He sobs loudly then, at the same time his hips thrust up to reach deeper insider her as if they had a mind of their own, and she sighs, delighting with the sun on her face and her brother exactly where he should have always been from the beginning. He’s still crying, but his body betrays him again as he pushes in, each shove more desperate than the one before. How he must hate himself now, she thinks with delight, and feels a heady trip of power with her brother’s cock artlessly thrusting inside her. They will both climax again, soon. And again, and again, whenever she wanted.

 Azula presses her lips to Zuko’s forehead, and then silences his wails with her teeth.


End file.
